


Pressure

by lotticorn



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Desperation, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Office Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotticorn/pseuds/lotticorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent stays behind at the station one night, just in case the boss needs anything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> I am shamelessly importing my work from FF-net!
> 
> My first Whitechapel fic. I'm still refusing to believe that there won't be a fifth season. Gross sobbing.

It was late. Way after office hours late and Kent was sill there. Of course he was. After all, the boss was still there and Kent's flatmates were out somewhere, getting drunk like every other night and he would most definitely not be missed. They had stopped asking him to tag along about half a year ago since he never did anyway. And why should he? The boss didn't go out, after all, so he wouldn't have the chance of meeting him. No, Kent would rather spend the nights here, in the incident room. Granted, it was not like his presence was appreciated or even noted, but this way at least he could tell himself he was trying.

A quick glance into the DI's office told him that the boss was still staring intently at the same file as twenty minutes ago. He looked stressed and tired, a look he always wore once a case got bad. And their cases always seemed to get bad.

Kent put down his notepad and went over to the kettle. If he was spending his night at the office he might as well make himself useful. It wasn't like the boss had even realized he was still there while everyone else was gone, but still. Maybe he still had a smile to spear; that would be enough. Kent had learned to appreciate the little things with the boss, probably because he would never have anything else.

Steaming mug in hand Kent knocked on the office door before entering with a shy smile. "I made you some tea, sir, you should take a short break" He set the cup down in front of his superior.

The addressed had obviously been lost in thought seeing as he visibly jumped and dropped his file. He blinked twice before looking at Kent, his face suddenly distorted in anger. "I cannot afford to take a break! Someone is murdering innocent people out there! We can't just sit back idly and drink tea!"

Kent felt himself flinch and looked down on his shoes, smile frozen in place. It wasn't good enough, it never was. He wasn't good enough. Of course he wasn't, the boss expected perfectness and Kent was as far from perfect as one could get. Why had he even stayed behind? Just to reassure himself once more that, yes, his DI only thought of him as some sort of underling who couldn't grasp the seriousness of the job.

Kent swallowed once and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Kent. Please stay"

His eyes snapped back up again and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Sir?"

Chandler sighed and massaged his temples. "It was very thoughtful of you to bring me some tea. Thank you. Why don't you sit down?" His face had completely lost the anger and looked only beaten now. He was quite obviously at the end of his rope.

Kent hurried to sit down while asking himself if this was really happening. Could his boss actually be interested in his opinion on the case?

"Why are you still here, Kent? Your shift ended three hours ago, everyone else has already left"

"You haven't. Sir" Suddenly studying the desk seemed much more interesting than meeting the boss's eye, Kent noticed, and tried to fight the flush that was creeping up on him. Good to know he was so elaborate under stress.

When he dared to look up again, Chandler was giving him an odd look that made it physically hard for Kent no to squirm. "I mean, you're still working, and you're right, we've got no time to waste, so I thought maybe you could use my help" Apparently, I was wrong, he added silently.

"I need something stronger than herbal tea…" Chandler sighed and reached into his drawer. "Scotch?" He produced a bottle and two glasses and put them down on the desk gingerly.

Kent did not trust his eyes. Had the boss just invited him to a drink? A drink in his office and not some pub, granted, but still a drink between the two of them. Minutely stunned, Kent could only not his head mutely and watch as his DI poured two glasses.

He passed one to Kent and as he reached for it, his fingertips brushed the boss's. Kent had to fight the urge to close his hand around Chandler's. It wasn't appropriate and would most definitely not be appreciated. Instead, he swallowed a generous amount of scotch before setting the glass down.

"I'm missing something, something vital here…" The boss murmured playing with the glass in his hand.

"You've managed to solve every case so far, you'll solve this one. You're a great detective, sir" Kent looked up again and smiled at the boss reassuringly.

Chandler responded with a half-smile. "It's nice to know that one person thinks so"

"I know you're a great detective! W-we all do, sir, the whole team!" Kent drowned his remaining scotch in one gulp, his nerves getting the better of him. This had to be the most awkward conversation of his life and he couldn't blame it on the alcohol, because he wasn't even drunk. Yet. Maybe getting drunk would help. It probably wouldn't and would instead end in tears though, knowing his kind of luck.

Chandler didn't seem to notice anything and filled Kent's glass a second time. Kent noticed that the boss's tie was loose and the first two buttons of his shirt unfastened. Chandler must have also run his hands through his hair once or twice, because it was tussled ever so slightly.  
It made him appear more human, more like the rest of them, no longer perfect, but still very attractive.

Kent gulped down more scotch, anything to drown these thoughts.

"I'm sorry for always snapping at you like I did before, Kent. I promise it's nothing personal; you've been doing great work lately. I just get so stressed every time I can't solve a case and, ah" The boss took a sip from his drink "I'm afraid I tend to take it out on you and the rest and for that I'm sorry. As your DI I should know better, but…" He trailed off and emptied half his glass.

For a second Kent had thought the boss was actually apologizing to him, the person Emerson Kent, but of course he had been wrong. He was apologizing to DC Kent, member of the Whitechapel police station and Chandler's team, just another subordinate, no one important.  
He had to fight the sudden urge to start crying like a little girl.

Instead he forced himself to say, "It's alright, sir, we understand. You're under a lot of pressure"

Kent emptied his glass for the second time and was about to get up when Chandler undid his tie.

"You don't mind, do you?" He asked Kent with a smile and put it on his desk, neatly folded and in perfect symmetry with his watch, phone and pen.

Kent felt the blood rush to his face as he stared at his now tie-less boss. With his partially unbuttoned shirt and ruffled hair he looked as if he'd just stumbled out of bed and Kent could not look away.  
When Chandler raised the glass to his lips Kent registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he was not being subtle at all and that even someone like the boss would notice Kent undressing him with his eyes. And yet he couldn't avert his eyes as the boss licked his lips once and continued staring even after he had set his glass down.

Chandler cleared his throat once and refilled Kent's glass clumsily. Were his hands shaking? It certainly seemed that way. Kent noted idly that even his hands were attractive. He hadn't even known hands could be attractive. And was the boss actually blushing?

Kent reached for his glass too fast and knocked it out of Chandler's hand. Scotch spilled all over the desk and both men jumped to their feet.

"I-I'm so sorry, Kent, I should've paid attention-" "No, sir, it's my fault, I'm so sorry about your desk, let me just-" "No, really, it's fine, I'll take care of it-" "Please let me, I spilled it"

Mortified by the situation, Kent reached to retrieve the glass a split second before the boss did and suddenly Chandler's hand was on top of his. It was big and warm and masculine and not as soft as Kent had imagined and it felt just right on top of his.

It felt like time had stopped and that mood had shifted completely. Neither man moved. Then Kent –in a sudden display of bravery or madness – intertwined his fingers with Chandler's and squeezed his hand softly.  
Apparently the amount of scotch had been enough, after all. Or rather too much. Why was he doing such a bloody stupid thing?

But when the boss hadn't withdrawn his hands after a few heartbeats, Kent dared to look up and met his eye. Chandler's confusion was obvious, but he didn't look mad. More like he'd just found the missing piece to solve a case.

Kent was still holding his hand and he didn't know what to do. The boss hadn't run away from him yet, and Kent took that as a positive sign, but how was he supposed to proceed now? He knew how he wanted to proceed, but what about Chandler? In his daydreams the boss would have taken action by now. Kent honestly wasn't too happy about having to be the active part.

The boss now had an adorably stupid expression on his face, one that Kent would have never associated with the strong, analytical DI who seemed always so professional. He looked just like Kent felt, at a loss for what to do next.

Kent drew in a shaky breath and bridged the gap between them leaning over the desk towards the boss. Their fingers were still entwined and Kent became painfully aware of the semi-buttoned shirt Chandler was wearing again and - oh God - his smell. It wasn't just one scent, it was a brilliant mixture of spices: masculine, very obviously expensive cologne, nearly faded tiger balm, fresh shampoo, soap and a soft, barely there note that was just Chandler himself.

Without thinking, Kent closed his eyes, leaned forward and placed his lips firmly on the boss's. His free hand found the shirt and clang on to it like he was holding on to dear life. He felt like he was.

Then the boss kissed him back, hesitantly, ever so slightly, and Kent really had to grasp the shirt for support this time. This was so much better than his imagination!

He opened his eyes slowly and looked into Chandler's very wide, blue ones. The boss's lips left his as Kent realized what he was doing.

He was making out with his DI! In his DI's office! And the gorgeous man was apparently interested in him!

All of a sudden Kent felt very light-headed and his hand twitched. Chandler, who had still been holding that hand, dropped it like it was on fire and flinched back.

"Kent, I…we...I-I mean…" The boss trailed off uselessly and Kent definitely saw his cheeks turning red this time. Unbelievably, Chandler seemed to be even more awkward than Kent; Kent didn't know if he was supposed to laugh or cry. But then again, they had just made out and there was scotch poured over the whole desk and the situation was absurd enough already and then Kent noticed his sleeve was drenched in scotch and so was Chandler's and all he wanted was to laugh hysterically.

"Um, sir, your sleeve…it's all wet"

The boss winced once and looked at Kent like he was awakening from a deep slumber. "…What?"

"You got scotch…over your sleeve, sir." You should really take it off, Kent finished silently. His own sleeve was starting to get quite sticky and he would have liked to take off his shirt, too.

Finally realization seemed to be dawning on Chandler's face as he looked down on himself and the next thing Kent knew he really was taking off his dressing shirt as Kent could only gape at him.

Joseph Chandler was one beautiful man.

Kent felt his mouth go dry and hesitated a second before shrugging out of his jacket, too. Then he quickly unbuttoned his shirt as well and took it off.

"Um, sir? I'll just take care of the mess here, okay?" He then proceeded to swipe the glass shards and liquor pools off the desk with his shirt.

He could physically feel the boss's eyes on him as he dumped the shirt in Chandler's bin and had to suppress a shudder. The situation was just too good to be true: he was half-naked, the boss was half-naked, they were alone in the office and they had kissed.

But then the mood had shifted to complete awkwardness and now Kent was so nervous he couldn't stop his hands from shaking and his breath from coming out unevenly and he couldn't even think about looking at the boss, although he was clearing his throat for the third time in a row now.

"Thank you, Kent, um…" He trailed off and Kent risked a quick look at him. After all, one glance couldn't possibly hurt.

Joseph Chandler wearing nothing but his dressing pants was a sight to behold.

The fact that he was blushing and didn't seem to know where to look didn't fit too well with his muscular frame, but Kent didn't care. The boss's lips were slightly redder than usually, too, from where Kent had kissed him and he found himself wanting to repeat that and do so much more.

And he decided he would.

It was the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Chandler didn't seem opposed and Kent had been dreaming of this moment for nearly three years.

So he went around the desk – not any less nervous – and gave the boss a shaky smile before touching his cheek lightly and pulling him into another kiss.

Kent could feel the boss shudder under his lips, but Chandler didn't pull back, so he deepened the kiss and maneuvered Chandler towards the desk carefully, slowly. After all he didn't want to spook the boss now.

When Chandler was with his back against the desk, Kent stared moving his hands from the boss's broad shoulders over his perfectly toned arms down to Chandler's masculine hands where Kent entwined their fingers once more.

Despite his lack of clothes, Kent felt hot all over and the boss had a thin layer of sweat on his skin as well. Chandler's face was flushed, too, and Kent broke the kiss to get a better look at the boss.

The man looked…bemused and dazed and a little scared and couldn't really meet Kent's eye.

"I…I'm not sure we should be doing this…" He murmured unsteadily. "Especially here…"

Kent felt himself go red in the face as well. Did the boss want to say that the office was the problem, not the fact that one of his male junior officers was seducing him right now? Did Chandler actually…approve of the situation? Did he maybe even like Kent a bit?

He hadn't let go of the boss's hands and the other man hadn't withdrawn them, either. For the second time that evening. They were both not really meeting each other's eye and Kent didn't know what to say. What kind of answer did the boss expect?

"Sir…I…" Yes, that was eloquent, most likely exactly the answer Chandler had been waiting for. Kent groaned inwardly.

Then he heard the boss take a shuddering breath and was suddenly grabbed by his wrists and pressed against the desk while Chandler leaned down to kiss him, hesitant at first, but then firmer.

Kent felt a wave of happiness pulse through him. This was more like his imagination. It was wrong for the boss not to be in control in any situation and Kent would gladly be controlled by him.

And although his back was pressed into the hard wood of the desk, Kent could not be anything but elated. DI Chandler, the perfect man, his idol for almost three years was not only acknowledging him, but was about to fulfill all of Kent's sexual fantasies at once.

The office, the desk, both of them sweating, panting – Kent clumsily unbuttoned first Chandler's and then his own pants.

The boss stopped kissing him and let his gaze flicker over Kent's body before stroking down his chest with soft fingers.

Kent had to hold his breath and was glad he had already taken off his pants. When Chandler reached his groin, Kent sucked in a breath and couldn't stop a low moan from escaping his throat. He closed his eyes and decided to let the boss take care of everything, just like Chandler liked it. Kent trusted him, Kent adored him and Kent was more than ready.

So when he was lifted up on the desk, he could barely suppress a whimpered 'sir' and when those beautiful hands dived into his curls he wanted to cry out the boss's name already.

Instead he let his hands wander down Chandler's back, feel his shoulder blades and retrace his muscles. Then he hugged the boss tightly breathing in his dazzling smell.

It was perfection, he was perfection and Kent prayed that this wasn't a dream he would shortly wake up from.

When he was gingerly turned around on his stomach, he knew it wasn't.

2am left Kent sitting on the desk dressed in one of the boss's dress shirts – his own had been dumped along with the shards of glass - drinking scotch from the bottle and wondering idly why Chandler kept condoms in one of his drawers.

All in all the night had turned out a lot better than Kent had initially thought.


End file.
